Although they have a superficial resemblance to the eastern glass lizards, the western genus Anniella, is contained in the family Anniellidae. Until very recently the genus was comprised of only 2 species, one in California and northern Baja and a second endemic to Baja California. Initially, based on coloration, the American species, Anniella pulchra, was thought to have 2 subspecies. A. p. pulchra, the California legless lizard, occurred over most of range with the black legless lizard, A. p. nigra replacing it in the Monterrey Bay and peninsula region. Examples intermediate between the California and the black in coloration were found elsewhere south of the range of the black examples.



The subspecies concept had fallen into disfavor with geneticists, so for a while, no matter its color or where within its range it occurred, the California legless lizard was considered a single entity.

However, genetics, now in vogue, eventually came into play and within the single species researchers determined that there were 5 clades. A "clade" is a group consisting of an ancestor and all its descendants, a single "branch" on the "tree of life," and that ancestor may be an individual, a population or even a species whether or not still extant. Researchers hypothesized that there were now 6 full species contained in what was until their assessment a single species.

So add now to the still extant A. pulchra, the hypothetical species A. stebbinsi, A. alexanderae, A. campi, A. grinnelli, and A. stebbinsi.

And we still have to add A. geronimensis, from south of the border.

As 2 friends have told me, these and similar recent hypotheses by other researchers seem to be solutions to problems not yet asked. Believe me, the solution to the non-problem regarding the legless lizards does not stand alone.

These lizards, no matter their name, are accomplished burrowers. Besides making their own burrows when substrate is of the proper consistency, they may seek seclusion beneath surface debris or may enter and follow a burrow premade by a small rodent or large insect.

Most that I have found have been only a half inch or so beneath the surface or beneath boards atop a yielding sand substrate or in shallow seaside burrows.

Many years ago, I decided (to my own satisfaction) that although most caiman are hatched feisty, the 2 species of the so called dwarf caimans of the genus Paleosuchus are hatched actually evil.



We see the smooth-fronted species, Paleosuchus trigonotus, on almost all of our trips to the Peruvian Amazon and no experiences I've had with them has altered my opinion in the least. In fact, if anything, my interactions involving this caiman, be they hatchlings or adults, have cemented my opinions ever more firmly.

The scales of this brown-eyed caiman are heavily ossified, providing an alternate name of armored caiman. Comparatively small though they may be, these 4 to 6 foot long alligator relatives are strong, have very sharp teeth, immensely strong jaws, are perpetually ready to do battle, and our guides and I have learned to afford them much respect.

A couple of years ago, a few early arriving clients (experienced herpers, all) got together on a rainy night before my arrival and decided to roadhunt the road to Nauta. After all, isn't that what herpers do? Somewhere along the way they encountered a 30 inch long smooth-fronted caiman, just sitting on the wet pavement minding its own business.

They stopped to look at it. It looked like, with minimal repositioning it would make a fine photo. One of the group attempted to reposition the little beast with a stick only a few inches long. Now this would have been fine for a spotted salamander, but for a 30 inch smooth-front?

Nope. It didn't work. Didn't even come close to working. And the result? Another herper learned respect for "little-but-feisty" beastie. I just wish I had been there to watch the action.

It's always good to start a trip with a little entertainment.

There's no question that the pattern and colors of this snake are an effective - a very effective - camouflage.



In more than 20 years of tromping through the Peruvian rainforest, we have seen only two speckled forest pitvipers, Bothriopsis taeniatus, and so well did they blend with the background foliage that we almost missed seeing both of them.

Actually, I consider that low number very surprising. The only snake that we search assiduously for and have found fewer of is the emerald tree boa. Of that taxon we have found only one, and unlike the pitviper that one example was not on our normally utilized preserves.

This pitviper may have a ground color of tan or gray to forest or olive green. The pattern is complex and variable, consisting of flecks, blotches, and bands of darker browns, grays, and greens to a green much brighter than the ground color. This pitviper is a slender snake. Adults are often three to three and a half feet in length, but some may attain a length of a few inches over five feet. This snake may spend as much time on the ground as in the trees.

It is a live-bearing snake that reportedly has a small number of young. The neonates are more precisely marked than the adults.

Everywhere and nowhere best describe where you may find this tropical American lance-headed snake. Certainly the fer-de-lance, Bothrops atrox, is one of the commonly seen venomous taxa on the Project Amazonas Biological Stations and in nearby villages, as well on trails far distant from all activity. Many seen are neonates or juveniles but some are 4 foot long adults.



Depending on weather patterns, this snake may be seen in some numbers on one day and night and then be absent, or at least not seen, for several days.

Such was the case on one rainy trip. Small puddles along busy trails on Madre Selva Biological Preserve had drawn sizable populations of breeding frogs and the presence of the frogs had, in turn, drawn the fer-de-lances. Day or night for two days following the storm, we could check the perimeters of the puddles and find 3 or 4 of these snakes, often with body distended by a belly full of frog. However, by the third night we found that they had mostly dispersed and by the following day we saw none.

Then there was the time when a fer-de-lance wasn't present when we left the tambo (2-person cabin) to walk to the kitchen, but one was coiled tightly between the stepping stones when we returned a half hour later.

On another occasion, we hadn't seen a fer-de-lanc in the week we had been at the station. But one evening one person (who later told me he hadn't believed all of my warnings), was distracted in conversation with his son and almost stepped on one that was crawling slowly across the camp clearing.

We were sure glad it was "almost."

As I say, these brown on olive-brown snakes are everywhere, and nowhere. If you're in Amazonas use care - always. Plan ahead when out at night. Carry a flashlight and use it.

Although eastern glass lizards, Ophisaurus ventralis, live in our yard, finding them on demand is a definite problem. I have never been able to do so yet! When it comes right down to it, whether I'm looking for them in my yard or elsewhere, I seldom succeed - at least on the first try.



There are 4 species of glass lizard (family Anguidae) in the United States. Three of the four, the mimic, the island, and the eastern, are restricted to the Southeastern United States. The fourth, the slender glass lizard, has two subspecies. The eastern subspecies is found from Kentucky and Virginia to Louisiana and Florida. The western subspecies ranges from a disjunct population in Wisconsin to Nebraska (barely) and southward to south Texas and west Louisiana.

Glass lizards are accomplished burrowers. In addition to making their own burrows when substrate is of the proper consistency, they may enter and follow a burrow pre-made by a small rodent or large insect. They also often seek seclusion beneath surface debris.

I have been fortunate enough to have found four eastern glass lizards in our yard, three beneath sheets of tin or plywood and one found about 12 inches below the ground surface while I planted a tree. The island and the mimic glass lizards seem a bit less urbanized and are most often encountered in open sandy woodlands or meadows.

Despite being seldom seen, of the four American taxa in this genus of oviparous lizards, only the mimic glass lizard is considered uncommon.

As a herping youngster in New England, I eventually found several eastern milk snakes. On my first trip to the New Jersey Pine Barrens with my mentor, Gordy Johnston, I had seen several Coastal Plains milk snakes Asa Pittman's, an at erstwhile dealer. But a drawing I saw of the southeastern scarlet kingsnake, (then Lampropeltis doliata doliata, now Lampropeltis elapsoides, but for a very long time between these two names it was known as Lampropeltis triangulum elapsoides) ran continually through my young mind.



I finally met a scarlet kingsnake, again with Gordy, but this time in southeastern South Carolina at a place called Okeetee. Our encounter with the scarlet kingsnake might have been on our very first trip to Okeetee. If not then, it was on our second.

At the partially shaded edge of an otherwise sunny field, a long dead pine had toppled. Probably before its impact the bark had loosened in large sheets, and after impact had loosened even more. Bark had broken free in patches and fallen to the ground beneath the trunk. Other patches had merely loosened and were still lying atop or wrapped around the trunk.

Beneath one of these patches, I found the most beautiful snake I had until then seen - a 12 inch long scarlet king!

Since then I have seen dozens more but only this one, and the largest (a 25 inch monster found years later in central Florida), remain so firmly etched in memory.

There are several snake species in Amazonia that undergo extreme color changes as they progress from hatchling/neonate to adulthood.



The orange to green color changes of two, the two species of emerald tree boa, are well known. However, there is a lesser known species, the rusty whipsnake, Chironius scurrulus (a colubrine) about which you seldom hear, that undergoes color changes as great as, but exactly the opposite of, those of the boas.

This slender snake, adult at over six feet in length, is leaf green and largely arboreal as a hatchling. Predominantly terrestrial (actually a largely river-edge, frog eater that swims well and fast) it is rusty brown as an adult. Between these two color extremes the snake appears more faded, a rather nondescript greenish-gray and then grayish-red.

It is a species that we always enjoy finding on our Amazonian Peru tours.

But enough talk. Meet the rusty whipsnake.

Four Days Before Christmas, and all through the 'hood,

The rain was torrential, conditions were good.



Jake said, "It's the night. We really should go."

I checked the computer, barometer's low.

So off in the storm, wipers on high,

The rain still fell in sheets from the lowering sky.

Traffic was heavy on roads, wet and black,

But for 50 long miles we stayed right on track.

We turned toward the pond, it had been a long ride,

But the "sallys" were active. We're both glad we tried!

Road herping central Florida style with Jake: December 21, approximately 67 degrees Fahrenheit, and heavy rain.

Species seen: mole salamander, Ambystoma talpoideum; tiger salamander, Ambystoma tigrinum; spring peeper, Pseudacris crucifer. Also seen: southern toad, green treefrog, and southern leopard frog.

For decades, attempting to ascertain whether this little Jamaican/Cuban gecko, Sphaerodactylus argus, has been extirpated from or remained extant in Florida has been problematic.



The ocellated gecko was first seen on Key West in 1944. It was probably introduced to Florida in produce or construction shipments. But from its first sighting until 2005, it was seen so infrequently that its continued presence here had been questioned by biologists. So infrequent were the sightings - in some cases the hiatus between sightings was nearly 2 decades - that in at least 2 cases it was surmised that the lizard had been extirpated from America's herpetofauna.

But we now know it's here, and there is a fairly robust population.

On Key West in 2005, I collected a half dozen adult ocellated geckos and several eggs that I only knew to be a Sphaerodactylusof some species. When the eggs hatched, I had 2 ashy geckos and several ocellated geckos.

Later in the year, another friend saw a dozen adults and a third person collected a large number for the pet trade. Within the last 2 years many more have been seen. It seems that for the better part of 7 decades this little lizard has been hiding in plain sight.

Introduced to the Lower Keys from Cuba, when adult this tiny lizard is rather nondescript ashy gray in color. The color is actually a complex pattern of ash - sometimes in reticulations, sometimes as fine dots--over a ground color of olive-brown.

But when even tinier, as a 1 1/4 inch long hatchling, it is one of the most beautiful lizards in the United States.



Hatchlings have an olive green body that is often suffused with pale orange, a gray-green head, and a fire orange tail. The limbs are pale orange. Head and body bear precise bands of dark pigment. Dark blotches are present on the top anterior 1/3rd of the tail. Pretty? You betcha! The intensity of color and pattern fades with the lizard's growth.

This is a common gecko on the Lower Keys but is most common on Key West and Stock Island. Hiding by day beneath debris or behind bark on both living and dead trees, it emerges at night and may then be seen on the walls of buildings, trunks of trees, or atop debris.

One of the turtle species that Ron and I encountered on the Colima trip was a semi-aquatic creature of primarily terrestrial habits. Known as the Mexican spotted wood turtle, the subspecies we happened across was Rhinoclemmys rubida perixantha, the more northerly of the 2 known forms.



We encountered 3 of this (as we later learned) uncommon little chelonian. All of these little brown turtles seen were active at night in a flooded field just east of the city of Colima.

The most conspicuous things about these turtles were the intricate and busy head patterns of broad, dark edged, yellow bars and spots. Although the yellow head patterns precluded R. rubida being mistaken for R. pulcherrima, at 6 to 8 inches in length the former were also of smaller size.

Very little is yet known about the diet of the Mexican spotted wood turtle. It is thought that like others in the genus the species eats a good amount of vegetable matter and is an opportunist feeder on invertebrates. It is known that captives relish worms, caterpillars, and land dwelling molluscs.

Hopefully, as the Behler Center works with their group we will learn more about this beautiful and delightful turtle.

In his little Austin Healey Sprite, Ron and I zipped across the border in Brownsville, Texas heading into Mexico's interior. We had no idea where we were going or where we would stop. We were young, had enough time and hoped we had sufficient dinero to get us to wherever and back home again. We did. Barely.



As it turned out we encountered torrential rains in the Pacific Coast state of Colima, and with the rains there were herps--herps of kinds we had never seen before in the wild, and many that neither of us had seen anywhere.

The rain flooded low lying fields and now treefrogs of a half dozen species were vocalizing. Mexican wood turtles walked the wet roadsides and swam across larger flooded areas. Lyre snakes, parrot snakes, and our hands down favorite - brown vine snakes - were crossing or sitting quietly on the highway. We were surprised that the latter were active as they are considered diurnal species with poor night vision but it seemed probable that the heavy rains prompted divergence from the norm.

Although Ron and I were known for unplanned trips, this one was by far the longest yet (a longer trip, it too, unplanned, to southern Chiapas was to come later). This multi-thousand mile trip for 2 adults in a 2-seat Sprite from Tampa to coastal southern Colima was more than just a bit crowded. But now, 50 years later, I still look back on with fond memories.

We spent only a few minutes flipping fallen palm fronds that lay on a grassy slope between a busy highway and a saltmarsh before we found the first of the several hatchling-sized ornate diamond-backed terrapins, Malaclemys terrapin macrospilota, we were to find that day.



After seeing several of the turtle babies while he searched the area for kingsnakes, Billy pointed out this tract of roadside habitat to us and, sure enough, the turtles were here. All were beneath the fallen fronds and all were at least partially dug into the sandy substrate.

Although it had probably been several weeks since they had hatched, all that we found during our search were still of hatchling size, and all but 1 or 2 were quietly tucked in, legs and neck withdrawn, eyes tightly closed. Since we still had weeks of warm weather ahead of us, it seemed strange that so many babies were this quiescent.

But compared to Mother Nature, what do we know?

The ornate is the subspecies of diamond-backed terrapin that is found along most of Florida's Gulf Coast. It ranges from the northern Keys to Okaloosa County on the panhandle. Of the many subspecies, the ornate is most consistently the prettiest having a black flecked light gray head and usually an orange center to each carapacial scute. Hatchlings are particularly pretty and usually have very prominent vertebral tubercles.

Do not expect to see diamond-backs in freshwater habitats. They are restricted to salt and brackish waters.

The ringing peeps of a vocalizing ornate chorus frog, Pseudacris ornata, lack the upward slurring of the much more common spring peeper.



Although only one and one quarter inches in length, the ornate chorus frog, a heavy bodied species, looks larger. And this little frog of the southeastern United States, in some of its many colorations, is truly ornate. The ground color may vary from mud-brown, through russet, russet and green, to a clear pea green. There are often dorsal spots or stripes of a contrasting color. Black lateral and groin spotting is invariable and there is also a black eyestripe.

Despite its size, the ornate chorus frog can be perplexingly difficult to locate. It is ventriloquial to some degree, and a call that seems to be originating from close at hand may actually be originating from some distance away. On rare occasions, such as overcast, drizzly nights, ornate chorus frogs may sit on open muddy banks or float in the open while calling. But in most cases they call while tucked well away in tangles of blackberries or secluded in emergent grass clumps.

In some areas, such as its southernmost range on the Florida peninsula (the latitude of Lake Okeechobee), this frog is now present in reduced numbers (or extirpated). In fact, its current range in Florida may start well north of the Tampa Bay region. But in some more northerly areas it still seems common.

Take the time to look it up. It is a beautiful anuran.

These elfin spirits of woodland and prairie care not whether you call them peepers, chorus frogs, or treefrogs. They are the various species of the genus Pseudacris, a genus comprised of about a dozen species.



They include in their ranks the smallest frog of the United States, the southeastern little grass frog, P. ocularis, that is adult at only 5/8ths of an inch and the giant of the genus, the Pacific treefrog, P. regilla, that may be a full 2 inches long.

The majority of the species, however are adult at about 7/8ths inch to about 1 1/8th inches in length. In other words, all are diminutive.

Most of the chorus frogs have a vocalization that sounds like a fingernail being run along the small teeth of a plastic pocket comb. The pulse rate is slower and the frog's color darker when temperatures are cold. The trill is faster and the colors brighter when the frog is warm. Those that don't have an apparent ratcheting trill produce peeps. Truth be told though, if the pulse rate of the peeps were slowed you would again be listening to a very apparent ratcheting.

Even where populations of chorus frogs are producing boisterous choruses, the little frogs, usually clad in camouflage colors and patterns, can be difficult to see. More often than not they position themselves in a clump of grasses emerging from the shallows of an ephemeral pond (or roadside ditch), nose pointing almost straight upward, and when so positioned are almost invisible. If searching, it is often the inflated and vibrating vocal sac that is most apparent.

Of all chorus frogs, spring peepers, P. crucifer, and little grass frogs are the most arboreal. They may call from almost any available vantage position from water's edge to several feet high in vegetation.

I wish you happy hunting and much luck as you search for these little frogs. You will probably need it.

There is in South Florida, a salt marsh in which dwell some of the prettiest mangrove saltmarsh snakes, Nerodia clarkii compressicauda, I have ever happened across.



There are many, of course, that are rather run-of-the-mill, but there are some that are clad in scales that are the brightest red I have ever seen on a water snake.

Many evenings the search first turns up one or more mangroves that are the more traditional dull olive green with variably distinct dark markings that are also variable in shape--sometimes blotches, sometimes bands, and sometimes stripes. The latter, if present, usually on the neck and anterior body.

Although also variable, the red examples tend towards a solid, unpatterned color, be it a rather pale orange red, a medium red, or the bright red, the phase I search most eagerly for, for no reason other than I enjoy seeing it.

As an entity, mangrove salt marsh snakes are fairly common in coastal areas along the southern two-thirds of the Florida peninsula and the Keys. The farther north in their range you find them, the more apt they are to be of grayish ground color and have broken dark striping. At the northernmost end of the range on both coasts, there is a intergradation with the subspecies next northward. That is the Gulf salt marsh snake, N. c. clarkii on the Gulf Coast and the Atlantic salt marsh snake, N. c. taeniata, on the Atlantic Coast.

Many, many, years ago when I first saw a photo of Elaphe situla (now Zamenis situla) I did a double take. Although it was captioned "Leopard Rat Snake," at first glance (and even at second glance) it sure looked like a corn snake.



Eventually I was lucky enough to see a leopard rat snake and to learn there are two distinctly different patterns, a saddled and a striped. Later still, I acquired a pair of each phase and bred the taxon. I learned that despite the similarity of the saddled phase to our corn snake the slender, Old World, leopard rat snake was and is quite unlike the New World species.

Please allow me to introduce you.

First, although often referred to as a European taxon, the leopard rat snake is actually Eurasian in distribution. This snake has a ground color of warm brown to gray and, depending on the phase, either a pair of dark-edged red stripes or neck-to-tail irregular dark bordered red saddles.

Both phases have a row of prominent black spots along each side. A dark interocular crescent is present as are other dark markings on neck and face. The venter varies from being nearly solid black to being light with black checkers. This scrubland snake is adult at a slender 2 to 3 feet in length.

I was told that captive bred examples will feed readily on suitably sized lab mice. Those I had, though, were wild caught and refused lab mice, but readily accepted wild mice of the genus Peromyscus (white-footed and cotton mice). To comply with their tastes we began a breeding program of the desired mouse species. This was a bit time consuming but proved well worth the effort. The snakes thrived, bred, and as I had been told the hatchlings did indeed feed readily on pinky lab mice.

Known as the one hundred pacer to some, a graphic reference to the supposed efficacy of the venom (one bite and you're dead in 100 paces or less!) and the snorkel-nosed viper to others, Deinagkistrodon acutus is one of the most recognizable and photogenic of the Asian snakes.



Having a light ground color, the dark triangular pattern is boldly evident--unless the snake is lying quietly coiled on a substrate of variably colored leaves. Then the camouflaging benefits of the pattern will be truly appreciated.

Adults of this oviparous crotaline may near a heavy bodied 5 feet in length. Hatchlings are a relatively slender 8 inches. A clutch typically numbers between 10 and 25 eggs, but up to 35 have been documented.

Prey items of this crepuscular and nocturnal snake include amphibians, small ground nesting or ground active birds and rodents.

Ranging over much of southern China and northern Vietnam, this taxon is of cultural significance in many areas, among which Taiwan is prominent.

It was late spring, in the Apalachicola National Forest (ANF) and I happened to have an hour to kill before meeting Kenny for a couple of days of herping. I was within a few miles of a favorite puddle, so decided to stop by for a hurried visit. During the winter this bit of water was a breeding site for ornate chorus frogs, I had seen a banded water snake or two there, and in previous years had seen a few mole salamanders beneath water edge logs.



But this time when I pulled up the site was unrecognizable. We had had an unusually wet winter and the rains had continued into the spring. The site, including the road-edge drainage ditch, was filled and overflowing with water. For a moment or two I contemplated whether I wanted to get wet just before leaving on a trip. But then a turtle surfaced in the flowing water of the ditch--a turtle with a narrow head and a prominently striped neck-- an eastern chicken turtle, Deirochelys r. reticularia.

Unlike many of their semi-aquatic emydine stay-at-home relatives, the chicken turtles (3 subspecies) are known for their peregrinations. These turtles wander widely from flooded meadow to vernal pond to the still waters of canal edges. If things get uncomfortably dry they dig down and aestivate. And although I consider them one of the "everywhere and nowhere" turtles (meaning they are widespread but seldom readily seen), they are seen infrequently enough to consider each sighting a mini-event.

So now, if you have interpreted the last paragraph correctly, you know I wasn't about to leave without at least trying to get some data from the chicken turtle. Yep. I got wet, but I was able to catch the turtle, a perfect example, an adult male. Hopefully he is still wandering, stopping now and again to sire more generations of wandering turtles. They are a delight to see.

Although actually of Eurasian distribution, this hefty glass lizard is often referred to as the European Glass Lizard.



Commonly an unmarked light to dark brown overall, occasional examples are lighter with variable patterns of a darker brown. Hatchlings are gray with irregular darker banding. It may grow to 3 feet or slightly longer when an adult.

Although never of great hobbyist interest, it seems that there has always been a few of these brown glass lizards with the strongly keeled scales available in the pet trade. Prices have always been reasonable. For example, I just checked the Kingsnake.com classified section for "Other Lizards" and there are 2 ads for these interesting lizards asking $75.00 each.

Sadly (and perhaps strangely) there are very few O. apodus bred in captivity. Availability has always dependent on wild collected imports. This renders the availability of this taxon vulnerable to changing and ever more restrictive laws.

I would hope that we won't allow the availability of this interesting lizard to go the way of the Basin emerald tree boa or the Colombian horned frog, only 2 of many one-time common species that are now very difficult to find in the pet trade.

Since I live in Gainesville, Florida, and since blue and orange is the official color scheme of the Gaters, the University of Florida football team, it is only reasonable to think that I'm writing about football. And if I gave a twit about the game, perhaps I would be.



But the blue and orange I'm thinking of is found from Charlotte and Brevard counties southward to the tip of the peninsula. They are the breeding colors of the males of a fast moving, very agile, introduced lizard. Known as the red headed agama, Agama agama africana, the dominant males of this African pet trade lizard actually have a bright orange head that contrasts sharply with the deep blue body coloration.

Non-breeding males may be only slightly more colorful than the olive-gray females.

It was more than 2 decades ago that the South African subspecies of this lizard, Agama a. agama, (identified by an all blue-green tail) was first found to be feral in Florida. It is not known whether cold weather extirpated this taxon from Florida or whether it interbred with and was out-competed by the West African form (identified by a tricolored blue-orange-black tail) that is now present in the state.

The red headed agama may be seen on bridge abutments, old buildings, and ornamental exposed rocks in gardens and fences. It is quick to notice any movement that it considers threatening and quickly retreats to safety.

Pretty? Yes! Does it belong here? No. But this form has been present for about 20 years now and continues to expand its range. It may just become a permanent lacertilian fixture in the state.

One of the most characteristic sounds of the neotropical rain forests is a rather mournful whooping call that is often heard at dusk on rainy or very humid nights, but which may sometimes be heard well after the tropical darkness has fallen. Although many have heard this call, used in motion pictures and other sound tracks, far fewer realize that it is the breeding call of a frog--a big frog, a bullfrog sized frog.



It is the call of the smoky jungle frog, Leptodactylus pentadactylus, a common, primarily terrestrial, rainforest denizen, and it is one that we usually easily see on our tours. In fact, when climatic conditions are ideal we can at times see the red eyeshine of 10 or more on the forest trail just behind the compound on Madre Selva Biological Preserve.

The alert frogs often sit next to their burrows on the open trail, but they are wary and if not approached very carefully they will jump into the burrow long before you are close to them. They also breed in burrows with eggs laid in foam nests that may or may not be in contact with water.

I should mention that the glandular secretions of this and related species are quite virulent. It is best not to handle these frogs if you have open cuts/scratches on your hands and need I say this? After handling one NEVER RUB YOUR EYES before washing your hands!

Terra cotta on olive green. The name on the tank was Trimeresurus kanburiensis, Kanburian bamboo viper. Unlike the all green bamboo vipers that looked much the same and only seldom had any collecting data, there was no mistaking this one for any taxon that I had seen before.



It was in the 1970s and Patti and I were keeping and breeding a fair number of palm and bamboo vipers of both New and Old World origin. I wondered, as I looked at the little snake then before me, whether I would ever be able to pair it up.

I decided nothing ventured nothing gained so when we left the dealer's that afternoon, the Kanburian pit viper accompanied us. It turned out that this snake lived for many years, but I was unable to pair it.

In fact, it was not until 1990s that I saw another of these terra cotta on olive beauties. Rather than T. kanburiensis these snakes (there were about a half dozen of them) were offered as T. venustus (brown-spotted pit viper). Since both gender were available and since they reminded me so very much of my old "kanburiensis" I bought a couple of pair and proceeded to try to learn the differences between T. kanburiensis and T. venustus.

It seemed that the most visible differences were the number of scale rows at mid-body: 21 for former and 19 for the latter. Venustus had the first 3 supralabials enlarged while the Kanburian did not. I checked and the new pit vipers all had 21 scale rows and enlarged labial scales. They were T. venustus.

Then I pulled a photo of that old 1970s example and although I wasn't positive on the scale row count it did have enlarged labials. I don't think that I have seen T. kanburiensis yet.

"Hey, Dick, here's a gopher!"

"Gopher tortoise, gopher frog, or pocket gopher?"

"Gopher tortoise--and it's a baby."



It was early August and Jake and I were on a jaunt hoping to find a photogenic pale-throated anole (a green anole with a gray rather than a red dewlap). So far we had failed, but during our search we found several other interesting herps that ranged from six-lined racerunners to fence and scrub lizards. We were actually in terrain that was well-populated by gopher tortoises, Gopherus polyphemus, so seeing one would not be too much of a surprise. But seeing a juvenile is not an everyday or every gopher colony occurrence.

"I'm on my way, Jake. Is it still visible."

"Yep. It's just sitting here eating."

And even after my delay as I wound my way through the prickly pear and cat's claw, the little tortoise, mostly hidden by grasses and brush, was still busily foraging.

With that single sighting what had until then been a very mediocre day suddenly became memorable.

Are there really coquis in Florida? The longer I search for these little frogs, the more certain I become that they are temporary visitors at best, and that nowhere in the United States are they resident.



There is no question that a few occasionally are found in plant nurseries in southernmost Florida and a few were once found and heard in southeastern Louisiana. But it now seems a surety that these few have either been stowaways on plant shipments from Puerto Rico, the coqui's home island, or deliberate releases. Unless within a heated greenhouse, the little brownish frogs with a lighter triangle between the eyes, apparently succumb as soon as seasonally cooler weather set in.

Over the many years I have searched for them, I have found only 3 coquis, all males, in Miami-Dade County, Florida. One discovered in our tropical garden in Ft. Myers was also a calling male. This lone example made its first appearance in mid-summer a day or so after I had returned from a Florida City nursery with a car full of heliconias.

He was seen no more after our first cold snap when the temperature dropped into the low 40 degrees Fahrenheit. The favored calling site of this frog, from which it called almost nightly, was at an elevation of 3 to 7 feet on the smooth bark of a huge orange tree.

The call of the coqui is unmistakable. It is an oft-repeated, loud, whistled "co-kee," with the accent on the second syllable. Heard once it will not be forgotten.

Today the range of the greenhouse frog, Eleutherodactylus planirostris, (now one of the most common of Florida's frogs) extends, at least locally, as far north as coastal southern South Carolina and eastern Texas. This tiny Bahaman, Cuban, and perhaps Cayman Island interloper has a weak, almost tremulous voice: a chirping whistle that is often mistaken for the stridulations of crickets.



However, the tinkling calls are more musical and have less of a cadence. Loose mulch, leaf litter and the moisture holding cups of terrestrial bromeliads are among the favored habitats, but any and all manner of surface debris - discarded newspapers, construction materials, or vegetable debris, be it in backyard or woodland - provide ready homes for this inch long tropical frog.

Since this frog has direct development (no free-swimming tadpole stage), standing water is neither necessary nor sought. The eggs are laid in moist locales,such as on a bromeliad leaf, and when the young emerge they are miniatures of the adult.

The ground color of this frog may be brown to reddish brown and usually blends remarkably well with the background. The pattern of lighter striping or darker reticulations serves to break up the outline making this anuran even more difficult to see. In fact it is only the almost imperceptible stirring of a dead leaf made as the alert frog darts quickly from sight that discloses its presence.

So if you're herping in the deep south and you think you see a leaf move when you turn debris, take a moment and check it out. You might have just seen a departing greenhouse frog. It would be good to keep tabs on their actual distribution.

It had rained, poured, rained, then misted all day and Jake wanted to see a Florida gopher frog - badly. So badly that he swore that if I would just get him to where they were chorusing he WOULD NOT come back to the car without a picture.



We visited and failed at some of my "tried and true" ponds the night before, so I prevailed on Paul Moler's better nature to provide the locale of a new pond. Thanks again, Paul!

Jake and I headed west and for nearly the entire hour's drive the conversation varied from his headache (he got a lot of sympathy for that!) to how the next gopher frog he heard would not evade his camera.

When we arrived it was almost dark. It was windy and cool. No gophers were singing. Finally after an hour's delay, I decided to walk down to the pond just to take a better listen. Jake accompanied me. Guess what! A few gophers WERE singing. We got to the water and I said something to the effect of "they're here, they're singing, go get 'em Jake." His response was "Um - I forgot my camera."

By now the frogs were actually calling loudly so I told Jake to go and at least find one so he could add it to his life list. He went. I stood and shivered. Jake got a quarter of the way across the pond and the frogs stopped singing. Jake stood. One frog called. Jake, sounding like a distraught porcupine, answered. Lo, the frog answered Jake who was again stalking s-l-o-w-l-y towards the calling site.

Then, as if a curtain had been lifted, the cloud cover dissipated. Within minutes stars twinkled overhead. Moonlight glinted brightly from the water's wind-rippled surface. Ranid calls ceased. Except for cricket frogs and the whistling of strengthening breezes there was almost absolute silence. It was time to acknowledge that the gophers had won this round. But there would be a next time and we would be ready.

Now, if we could only find the path back to the car.

The calls of the various anurans were almost deafening as we maneuvered the motor canoe in and out of the beds of floating water lettuce and hyacinths. Pings, squeaks, grunts, groans, beeps, and clicks of various pitches and intensities intermingle and require stopping and listening intently to sort out. Most of the callers were hylids (treefrog family) but occasionally a few leptodactylids (tropical frogs) would also call.



Three of the frog species we were searching for were prominent in this chorus. They were the the 3 taxa of hatchet-faces, treefrogs of the genus Sphaenorhynchus. Although a rather silly analogy, I have come over the years to think of the 3 as the "3 bears" with Baby Bear being the 1" long S. carneus, Mama Bear being the slender 1 1/2" long S. dorisae, and Papa Bear being the robust 1 3/4" long S. lacteus.

Despite being hylids, these 3 frogs are predominantly aquatic and large numbers of each may be found amidst the islands of aquatic vegetation (especially water lettuce) throughout the year. Besides the size difference, these 3 also differ in call and in appearance. The tiny S. carneus produces a series of rapidly repeated clicks and has reddish dorsolateral stripes. S. dorisae has a rounded snout and lacks striping and produces a series of pinging notes. And S. lacteus has a sharply pointed nose, white canthal (snout) stripes, and its call is a single cluck.

Renewing our acquaintance with these 3 taxa and their fellow songsters is always one of the most enjoyable aspects of our Amazonian tours. And of course there always the chance of seeing a black caiman as well.

This is herping at its neotropical best.

Where there once was a seasonally flowing stream there is now a reservoir several acres in size. In this newly formed water body there are spectacled caiman, giant arapaima, neotropical water snakes, and a vast number of giant monkey frog tadpoles.

And somewhere on the far side of the reservoir, well away from the station's buildings, perhaps in the shallows of the reservoir itself or maybe in a remote puddle, pond, or water-filled hollow log, there are probably barred monkey frog tadpoles, Phyllomedusa tomopterna.



At least there should be, for we have found several adults of this beautiful medium-sized hylid vocalizing from perches in reservoir-side shrubs and trees on the far banks.

Phyllomedusa tomopterna attains a length of about 2 inches. At adulthood, males are the slightly smaller sex. Although variable, the dorsum is often a forest green. The throat and chest are white(ish) and the belly is orange. The sides are a richer orange than the belly and bear broad vertical bars of purple-black. Each heel bears an easily noticeable calcar (heel spur). The soft clucking notes of the males do not have much carrying power.

These frogs are always eagerly sought on our tours and the search for them invariably introduces us to numerous other rainforest denizens. In fact, as you read this Patti and I will again be looking for this hylid in the rainforest of Amazonian Peru.

Wish us luck.

Back in 1970, while scanning a pricelist from Hank Molt, the name Mt. Kenya bush viper, Atheris desaixii, caught my eye. I was familiar with several species in the genus, but A. desaixii was one that I didn't know.



In those days there was no Google to turn to for information. Even the word computer was seldom heard and if heard it was not thought about as belonging to a magazine-sized entity that would reside in average homes, schoolrooms, backpacks, and vehicles.

But we did have telephones. And back then we dialed the number of the person we hoped to talk with. Since there was no caller ID to alert them that it was a pest calling, they almost always answered the phone. So I called Hank. Hank answered, and a few moments later he was describing a Mt. Kenya bush viper to me. It seems that the snake was primarily black, had yellow tipped scales, and its venom composition was basically unknown. Hank said it was a beautiful snake, really, really pretty.

Sounded pretty to me, so I asked Patti "Do I need a Mt. Kenya bush viper?" She looked at me like I had just stepped off a spaceship, and said "no" (and it was an emphatic no).

So I called Hank back, told him that Patti couldn't wait to see the viper, and to ship it ASAP. Two days later I was getting acquainted with my first Mt. Kenya bush viper.

And Hank had been right. It was a beauty.